Melodica

Black Mines; 1994/2012

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Blackalicious released their debut EP Melodica on Solesides in 1994, when West Coast indie rap was in the midst of a Pharcyde/Aceyalone/Hieroglyphics-driven peak. By the time Gift of Gab and Chief Xcel finally got around to recording a follow-up, the label they were on had dissolved, and underground hip-hop's independent-label ranks had become uncomfortably crowded. But 1999's A2G EP, as well as that year's Nia, caught on anyway, and eventually that first release of theirs started taking on the mythical "early classic" status that elusive, pre-fame records get when they start getting, say, $75 rare. Four of the EP's seven tracks eventually made their way to the 2000 compilation Solesides Greatest Bumps, which had the maddening effect of revealing that at least some of Melodica was great while the rest leaving plenty to the imagination.

This re-release of Melodica is the first official digital edition, as well as the first effort to consolidate all the tracks, instrumentals aside, that made it onto both the Solesides original and Mo Wax import editions of the EP. As a reissue, it's definitive, but as a time capsule, it's crucial: As an early installation of what would be one of California's most prominent components of the scene, Melodica is an appealing example of what independent rappers could pull off once they got the notion that they didn't have anyone else to answer to but themselves and their fans. This is conscious-minded, lyrically technical underground hip-hop at its rawest and, sometimes, at its most over-the-top ridiculous.

Hopefully, that doesn't sound like a warning, but the appeal of this stuff does hinge on an ear for the kind of elaborate bombast that plays chicken with self-parody. The hyperactive unpredictability of Gab's delivery can be overwhelming, especially when he delivers avalanches of fast-spit assonant wordplay that seem to defy punctuation. (Anyone that transcribes "Lyric Fathom" or "Rhymes for the Deaf, Dumb and Blind" while using line breaks is doing it wrong.) But while it's trendy to crown this style as "lyrical lyricist" stuff, there's some real ankle-breaking work here; at some points he approaches doing for syllables what Thelonious Monk did for notes, bending emphasis and pulling clutch-rupturing gearshifts in his flow that draw more whiplash victims than any peer West of Pharoahe Monch.

And while super-technical performances like his berserk turn in "Deep in the Jungle" bring the flash ("Gifted when I'm lifted off a spliff hit/ Reminisce shit, riff with dipshits/ This shit is the misfit style of the gifted/ I'm a whiz kid, get a whiff kid"), Gab's more laidback, downtempo moments-- "Swan Lake", "Attica Black", "Changes"-- show that he still had a talent for building relaxed, breathable verses as well. That skill works with the other, most prominent quality of his voice-- the burbly, nasal tone that sounds amiably mellow even when he's preposterously threatening to "rip off your arm and throw it in a stew" or some similar bit of battle-rap goofiness. His vocal tone has always been one of Gab's more relatable qualities-- even if it trips him up occasionally, lending an unintentional flippancy to the alcoholic hard luck story "40oz for Breakfast". When it really works, it lends this odd sense of humility that undercuts his diabolical words and gives weight to his modest ones. There's a line in "Swan Lake" where he admits that he's "not sayin' I'm the baddest but I know I got potential", a modest shrug that would sound disingenuous from any other voice. Here, it's as empathy-provoking as the bit where he's really bummed about getting burned off a $20 bag of shitty weed.

Blackalicious' potential was fulfilled by the time those two '99 releases hit college radio rotation, but those records carry the consequence of making some of the production on Melodica sound fairly first-draft by comparison. Not all of it, granted: "Swan Lake" is a neat bit of cratedigger streamlining that merges three different early 70s soul-jazz covers of the Stylistics' "People Make the World Go Round" in its structure. And the rare, out-of-the-vaults "Changes" is an immersive dose of lo-fi psychedelic soul with a murky yet hard-hitting drum break beneath.

Both of those tracks featured DJ Shadow co-producing with Chief Xcel, while the EP's other best beats-- the fuzzed-out acid-funk "Rhymes for the Deaf, Dumb and Blind" and the minimalist, "Song for My Father"-quoting "40oz for Breakfast"-- were the results of Shadow working alone. Considering Chief Xcel is the producer who'd later give us intricately heavy beats like "You Didn't Know That Though", "Passion", and "The Craft", not much here really knocks on his side of the table, and there's a couple questionable loops-- the comedic horns and disjointed sampled hook of "Lyric Fathom"; the lounge-act organ on "Deep in the Jungle"-- that are almost annoyingly dissonant. But there were better things to come, and so Melodica is worth its place in history.